


The Pirate Prince

by imaginary_golux



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Minor Character Death, not in the story but mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22570042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: Maia Drazhar comes to the Ethuveraz to take his throne. Csethiro, like everyone else at court, is desperately curious about the pirate prince.Beta by my darling Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.
Relationships: Csethiro Ceredin/Maia Drazhar
Comments: 52
Kudos: 197
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2020





	The Pirate Prince

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Archduke and the Glorious Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815917) by [imaginary_golux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux). 



Like everyone else in the Untheileneise Court, Csethiro is immensely curious about the new Emperor. His tale sounds like something out of a storybook: an unwanted archduke, kidnapped by benevolent pirates and raised as one of their own, now returned in triumph to take his rightful throne.

Csethiro might have been more willing to take the romance of the tale at face value if she and the rest of the Untheileneise Court hadn’t all just lived through what is starting to be called the Tethimadeise Coup. That, she is quite sure, would be enough to make the most naive and gullible woman a little bit _jaded_.

Csethiro spent three days in grateful prayer when Paru Tethimin was chosen for Varenechibel V’s Empress instead of her. Her father thought she was grieving her chance to rule. Well, that was before the whole disastrous treasonous mess of it came pouring out; _he_ still thought Varenechibel V was anything but a figurehead. Csethiro figured out something was wrong rather earlier than her father, because _she_ was friends with Vedero...which means she noticed when Vedero stopped writing, stopped visiting or accepting visitors, stopped appearing in court at _all_. Csethiro knew the Tethimada were bad news, and couldn’t do anything about it.

Now, though, she has no idea whether the new Emperor will be good news, or bad news, or just strange. She doesn’t even know his reign name - nobody does. All she knows is what has become common gossip in the day since the airship returned carrying him:

He is Varenechibel IV’s youngest son, by his fourth and least-regarded wife. He was kidnapped from Edonomee, some months after his mother’s death, by his aunt Shaleän, who is a pirate - possibly a pirate queen, the rumors aren’t quite clear - and raised by her in Solunee-over-the-Water. He is half-goblin. A few people claim to remember seeing him years ago, at his mother’s funeral, but a grieving eight-year-old is hardly a good measure of a grown man, much less one raised by pirates.

And Csethiro knows, without any particular pride, that she is one of the best choices for the new Emperor’s bride. Paru is dead; Loran Duchenin _would_ have been in the running back before Lord Chancellor Chavar died but isn’t anymore; and though there are an abundance of noble women who would like to be empress, of those near enough the new Emperor’s age to make a decent match, Csethiro is head and shoulders above the rest of the pack. And her father would cheerfully marry her to a barbarian from the Evressai Steppes if he thought it would profit him politically.

Well, maybe not _cheerfully_. He does love her. But he’d still do it.

So Csethiro is a bit nervous, which makes her sharp-tongued and twitchy, when the news goes out that His Serenity will be presented to his people in the Untheileian at the third hour after noon. She and her family get there early, of course - everyone does - and take their places as close to the throne as they can without stepping on anyone’s literal or metaphorical toes. Csethiro stands as still as she can, running through dance steps in her mind and wishing she was allowed to carry a sword. She always feels a little better when she has a sword at her side.

Lord Berenar has, somehow, ended up announcing the Emperor. Csethiro wonders what sort of negotiations resulted in _that_. He does it well, though, his voice sounding throughout the entire vast Untheileian:

“His Imperial Serenity, Edrehasivar Zhas, seventh of that name!”

Edrehasivar Zhas is very tall. That’s Csethiro’s first thought, even before she notices how dark his skin is, seeming nearly black against the white-on-white of the imperial garments. The tailors must have labored all night to clothe him - she thinks he might be taller than his father was, and certainly none of Varenechibel V’s clothing would fit him.

(No one will ever know how tall Varenechibel V might have been, had he reached his full height, and Csethiro spares a moment to send a quiet prayer to Ulis for the young emperor’s soul, may it have the peace in death he did not find in life.)

Csethiro is close enough to see that Edrehasivar Zhas _does_ have the Drazhadeise grey eyes, startling in his dark face. There are pearl-and-silver studs in his ears. His hair is longer than hers, a beautiful black wavy mass like a stormcloud, decorated with pearls like stars. He looks…

Well, he looks a little overwhelmed, honestly. But he holds himself well, tall and proud, and he speaks in a voice that must have been trained to carry over storms and the creaking of ships, clear and loud without seeming to shout, and rather pleasant to listen to. “We greet you,” he says solemnly. “We know We must be strange to you, as indeed you are strange to Us; but We pledge that We shall do Our utmost to bring stability again to the Ethuveraz, and to reign with wisdom and compassion over all Our people.”

Csethiro thinks that he must have written that himself: there’s no way _any_ of the surviving members of the Corazhas would have included _compassion_ in the list of vital attributes of an emperor. She’s a little taken aback that a pirate thought of it.

Maybe her long-quashed romantic dreams of a dashing pirate prince are a _little_ less foolish than she thought they were?

Edrehasivar Zhas is coronated a week later, and takes the pledges of all his lords. Csethiro does not pledge to him, of course - a daughter, offering her fealty in her own right? Unheard of! - but she watches from the side as her father goes to his knees before the Emperor and speaks the formal words, and thinks that she is maybe a little impressed by the attention Edrehasivar pays to each of his lords, great or small, powerful or insignificant.

The day after his coronation, two letters arrive at the Ceredada apartments. One is for Csethiro’s father, and the seal is a cat with a fish’s tail, odd and strangely elegant. A Drazhada seal, for an emperor who is half goblin, half Sevraseched, half - or more than half - a pirate. Csethiro looks at the letter lying beside her father’s plate at the table and knows what it must say, and swallows hard against her nerves.

The other letter is beside Csethiro’s plate, and it has _Vedero’s_ seal: a cat holding a pen. Csethiro hasn’t seen anything bearing that seal in almost a year. She picks the letter up in hands she will not allow to tremble, and opens it carefully, brushing her fingers over the seal as though to check that it is real.

The handwriting is Vedero’s, though it is shaky, as though Vedero has not written much in a long time.

_Our dear Csethiro,_

_We are hosting a very small luncheon at one this afternoon, for friends we have not seen in some time. We would be pleased by your presence. We have new apartments near the Alcethmeret; we are sure any page will be able to direct you._

_Vedero Drazhin_

Csethiro’s eyebrows and ears go up in shock. _Drazhin_? Vedero has been _Tethimaran_ since her marriage…

It’s almost unheard of for a family to take a daughter _back_. It would have had to be the new emperor’s doing. Someone must have mentioned that the traitor Tethimar’s wife was his half-sister, was innocent of any wrongdoing, and he must have gone out of his way, in the week between his arrival and his coronation, to arrange for the paperwork to be drawn up and the proper rituals observed and the marriage _annulled_ , so that Vedero could be Drazhin again.

Wisdom and compassion. Csethiro’s starting to think those weren’t just empty words.

Her father opens his letter very carefully, scans it twice, and nods. “We are to attend upon the emperor at four this afternoon,” he says, using the plural and looking right at Csethiro. “Thou knowest what this must be about.”

“I know, Father,” Csethiro says. “I shall do my duty.”

Her father nods, and Csethiro escapes the table to figure out which outfits she wants to wear for a luncheon with the emperor’s reclaimed sister _or_ an audience with the man she’s probably going to marry, assuming her father doesn’t demand something absurd as a betrothal price.

Vedero looks thin, and her hands are strangely scarred when Csethiro takes them, but there’s a light in her eyes that makes Csethiro smile nonetheless. There are four other women there - all of them Vedero’s closest friends, and Csethiro is flattered to be counted among them - and the first part of lunch is entirely the sort of quiet gossip which might pass as conversation at any meeting among noble friends.

Once the plates have been cleared and they’re all lingering over tea and thin cookies, though, Miro - Vedero’s friend who specializes in translating Barizheise poetry - who says, “Vedero, darling, what _happened_?”

Vedero lifts one hand in an elegant gesture of bafflement, and now that Csethiro’s looking, her fingers are a little crooked, like they’ve been broken and healed wrong. “Tethimar happened, demons eat his soul,” Vedero says. “And then - Edrehasivar happened.” She looks at Csethiro, then, and her eyes are grave. “That is part of why I asked _thee_ today, Csethiro, besides my friendship for thee. Thou must know my brother will ask thy father for thy hand.”

“I had guessed,” Csethiro says steadily.

“I wished to reassure thee,” Vedero says, reaching across the table to pat Csethiro’s hand. “I know ‘twill not occur to thy father to wonder, but I wished to tell thee that my brother Edrehasivar is - kind.”

Csethiro nods. She had begun to guess at that; it is no part of any sly political plot to reclaim one’s sister and install her in very nice apartments instead of relegating her or worse, and that Edrehasivar has done so for Vedero in the first week of his presence is quite a statement. But it could so easily have been simply care for his blood kin; even very cruel men are sometimes kind to their own blood.

“What else canst thou tell us of him?” Miro asks gently. Vedero considers.

“I have spent but little time with him,” she says at last. “But he has taken for one of his nohecharei a _nohecharo_ , a female maza, and he calls all his servants by their names.”

Csethiro rocks back in her chair a little. A nohecharo - that is absolutely unheard of, rarer even than reclaiming a daughter from a failed marriage.

Suddenly, she’s looking forward to this afternoon’s audience. She wants to know what this man _is_ , this pirate emperor, this Drazhar raised so far from court, to whom wisdom and compassion and kindness are more than empty words.

The audience is in the Tortoise Room, not the Untheileian. The Emperor is never alone, but this is as close to private as Csethiro thinks such an audience can get, far more private than she really expected: the Emperor himself, of course, tall and lean and imposing in his white silks; his secretary, seated at a desk and looking properly expressionless; his nohecharei - Csethiro is a little disappointed that the maza is male - standing at his shoulders looking almost as blank as the secretary; and Lord Berenar, the new Lord Chancellor, standing by the fireplace.

Csethiro’s father bows, and she curtsies. Edrehasivar inclines his head quite politely. Lord Berenar steps forward to begin explaining why they’re here - as if both Csethiro and her father didn’t know that perfectly well - and Csethiro ignores the talk of contracts and betrothal prices in favor of studying her probably-about-to-be-betrothed.

He’s apparently listening intently to the negotiations, but after a minute he nods a little and sits back and looks at _her_. He’s quite open about it, neither shy nor over-familiar, and so Csethiro looks back without flinching.

There’s a scar on his cheek, faded but just visible from close up. His ears have more piercings than she’d realized - five each, and there are tiny black pearls in most of them, blending in with his dark skin. His hands are callused and clearly strong, his shoulders broad. He’s...handsome, actually. He’d make a good pirate prince in an opera. And though she’s heard some people muttering about his goblin heritage, it sets off the white silks nicely - the contrast is striking and intriguing, and the white doesn’t wash him out the way it sometimes did his father.

The Drazhadeise grey eyes are keen and startling. Grey as a storm over the sea, Csethiro thinks, and then snorts at herself for getting fanciful.

Lord Berenar and her father finish their negotiations after about half an hour - shorter than Csethiro expected, but then, her father doesn’t want to annoy the Emperor - and the Emperor speaks for the first time.

“We would be pleased to speak with Dach’osmin Ceredin before the contracts are signed.”

Csethiro wasn’t expecting that. Neither was her father. Lord Berenar just looks sort of resigned. After a moment, Csethiro’s father bows awkwardly and says, “As His Serenity pleases,” and Lord Berenar herds him gently out of the room, the secretary following them.

Csethiro is alone with the Emperor and his nohecharei, which is as alone as the Emperor ever gets.

“We asked our sister about you,” the Emperor says, which is not what Csethiro was expecting. “She told us you were bold and intelligent, and knew the court as we do not.”

Csethiro can feel her ears heating. “She told _us_ that you were kind,” she replies, and Edrehasivar’s ears dip in surprise.

“We are very glad to hear it,” he says. “Our Aunt Vano would be very disappointed in us, did we forget her lessons so far as to be otherwise.”

“We thought your aunt’s name was Shaleän,” Csethiro says without thinking. Edrehasivar smiles.

“Aunt Vano is our Aunt Shaleän’s wife,” he explains, and Csethiro doesn’t gape, but it’s a close thing. She _does_ lose control of her expression when Edrehasivar adds, “She is a lion-woman from Anvernel, and had much of our raising while our Aunt Shaleän was at sea.”

“That sounds like an interesting childhood,” is all Csethiro can find to say.

“It was,” Edrehasivar says. “We quite enjoyed it, all things considered. Though it was Aunt Shaleän who taught us to sail, and to fight.” He pauses, and then adds, delicately, “Our sister mentioned that you were a talented swordswoman.”

The soldier-nohecharis twitches, just a little.

“We have some little skill,” Csethiro says warily. His next words are going to be forbidding her from swordplay, as it is unbefitting an empress, she just _knows_ they are.

“We would be honored if you would consent to spar with us sometime,” says the Emperor.

“We would be glad to do so, Serenity,” Csethiro says, so shocked she is surprised she _can_ speak. Spar? With the _Emperor_?

With a trained swordsman, who might actually provide a challenge? Who might know different moves, Barizheise or Anverneise, or piratical, if pirates have their own style of fighting? Csethiro can barely rein in her excitement.

The Emperor hesitates, and glances briefly at the soldier-nohecharis. “We are to be married, Dach’osmin Ceredin,” he says at last. “It would...please us, if, when we are in private, our betrothed - our wife - might call us by our given name.”

This whole day has been one shock after another. Csethiro curtsies. “We would be honored...Maia. And more so if you would do the same.”

“Csethiro,” the Emperor - Edrehasivar - _Maia_ says, and smiles. It’s a crooked, cheerful, confident smile, and it makes him look, for a moment, every inch the dashing pirate of a romantic novel.

Csethiro smiles back, and thinks, _Maybe this is going to work_. Because she’s always wanted to be the dashing pirate, not the rescued damsel, and something in Maia’s smile tells her that he doesn’t _want_ a damsel. He wants a woman who can spar with him, can fight beside him as his equal, with swords or words alike. Csethiro’s not going to have to tuck herself into a box, the way she’s always feared she would when she married - or, at least, not one that hides her from her _husband_. She’ll have to conform to propriety enough to be a good _Empress_ , which will be its own hassle, but…

This is going to work. And more than that - it’s going to be _good_.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the February Ficlet Challenge prompt "Pirate AU."


End file.
